Pretty Picture
by BlueCheeter104
Summary: A York and Carolina depressing story and a small poem inspired by Amy Efaw. WARNING. THIS IS ABOUT SELF HARM. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK


**A/N:** Quite depressing I know but this has been going through my mind for awhile and I needed to write this. Don't hate me please

* * *

_**She paints a pretty picture, But the story has a twist** _

"Carolina?"

"Yeah?"

"What are these about?" asked York, running his hand lightly over her arm.

_**Her paint brush is a razor, And the canvas is her wrist.** _

Tears began to prick in her eyes "I have some problems and thats the way I handle them" she said in a distant voice

"It's Texas isnt it? Your pushing yourself too hard" he said, concern in his voice. Carolina just looked away from York, not answering.

"Why would you do this to yourself?" questioned York, in a soft voice, running a hand up her scarred arm.

_**She paints her pretty picture, In a colour that's blood red,** _

She shrugged and looked away from his sad eyes.

"Wouldn't hurt though?" his voice full of concern

"It doesn't hurt. It feels fine" she said running her hand up her arm leaving it to rest over Yorks.

_**While using her sharp paint brush, her arms have gone dead.** _

"Please don't. Your too beautiful and strong to do that to your self" he said, cupping her face and caressing her cheek with a thumb. She shook away his embrace

"Just watch me" she said while reaching out to a small table next to her bed and grabbed a small black box, taking the lid off and revealing a small assortment of blades. Picking up one, she drawed it across her arm quickly several times. A few seconds later, blood was dripping down her arm.

_**She's adding to her gallery, her blood's begining to flow,** _

"Carolina!" York shouted in disbelief, now looking at the blood that was slowly running down her arm. He looked up to her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I'm...sorry..." she said, crying through quick breathes. The small drops of blood had now fallen onto her white bed sheets, staining them red. York grabbed a bandage from her nearby desk and wrapped her bleeding arm in the white strip before taking the blade out of her hand.

_**She knows she needs to stop, but she just can't let go.** _

She was crying now. The Carolina that York had always seen so strong was breaking down infront of him. He pulled her in and rocked her gently in his arms, running his hand through her hair and caressing her arm

"Shhhh baby. It's gonna be alright" he said soothingly to the small frame being rocked gently in his arms. She continued to cry into his chest.

"I can't stop...I'm addicted..."she sobbed softly into his shirt.

"Yes you can. I know you can" he said, holding Carolina's body close to his

"You wouldn't understand, York" she said, tears still running down her face

_**Nobody really understands her, Nobody really knows,** _

"Darling, I understand more than you think" he said pulling up his sleeves. There were little red lines and pink scars running along his wrists and arms.

"Oh York..." Carolina said, slowly running her shaking hand over his arms. "Why?"

"Like you, I had problems and thats how I delt with them" he said, running a hand over his arm and stopping it to rest on Carolinas hand. "But you know, getting out is easy. I know you can do it"

_**About her little paint brush and how her story goes.** _

She looked down at her arm, the white bandage had hints of pink when the blood was soaking. "I don't think I can..."

York took her hand and squeezed it tightly "You can, I'll help you" he said, giving her a warm smile

"Why?"

"Because I love you" he said simply, holding Carolina close and rocking her.

_**She'll make a promise but she'll just pretend,** _

"Just promise me one thing" he asked, stroking her hair.

"Anything" she sniffeled.

"Don't cut again and if you need to, come talk to me" he said in a stern yet soft and caring tone.

"Okay"

"Promise?" he asked suspectingly.

_**So that she can keep cutting till the end**_.

"I promise" she said, trying to smile up at York, who smiled back down at her.

_**She painted her pretty picture, but her picture had a twist,** _

Little did York know, Carolina had crossed her fingers behind herself. She couldnt stand to loose the only thing that made her feel human. Her eyes were drifting down now and she couldnt focus on anything. York tucked her into bed and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight my beautiful warrior"

**_You see her mind was her razor, her canvas was her wrist._ **

She tossed and turned in bed but couldnt sleep. An hour after she went to bed, she quietly slid out of her bed and walked to her desk, pulling out the black box and taking a blade out.

"I'm sorry York" she said looking at the sleeping figure in her bed then back to the glistening blade before dragging it along her skin.


End file.
